


Two Hearts With Accurate Devotions

by FunkyinFishnet



Category: Spartacus Series (TV), The Sentinel
Genre: Alternate Universe - Sentinels & Guides, Alternate Universe - Sentinels and Guides Are Known, Choices, F/M, Freedom, Grief/Mourning, M/M, Male Slash, Sentinel Senses, Sentinel/Guide Bonding
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-06-19
Updated: 2013-06-19
Packaged: 2017-12-15 11:53:31
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,001
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/849260
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FunkyinFishnet/pseuds/FunkyinFishnet
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Agron, a Sentinel on the edge thanks to his brother's death, is one of Spartacus's rebels, helping free Guides from strict government training houses which ignore true bonds in favour of providing Guide services for profit. He expects to die before finding his own Guide, but then one night, the rebels raid a training house and Agron's expectations are very abruptly challenged. He and his Guide have decisions to make.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Two Hearts With Accurate Devotions

**Author's Note:**

> I'm being very liberal with _The Sentinel_ 's mythology, for example as far as I remember there's no such thing as bonding between Sentinels and Guides and no such thing as one Guide out there perfect for each Sentinel, that's all delicious fandom :) The title is a lyric from the song 'In For The Kill' by La Roux.

 

 

Another day, another Guide Training House stormed. Agron smiled viciously into the fire. Spartacus was talking to the frightened and now-free Guides. Naevia was close by and ready to take over explaining from a freed Guide's perspective, Crixus as always never far from her. As he was a safe enough distance from the others, in an attempt to lessen the always-present painful itching under his skin that just breathing caused, Agron glanced upwards and smiled, a fist held tightly to his chest.

 

_We did well today, brother._

 

Every Guide he freed, he freed in Duro's name. Duro, who'd never had the chance to enjoy the freedom Spartacus had promised them, who'd never gotten to meet his Sentinel.

 

Agron's teeth clenched and, with some effort, he pushed his ever-present rage and grief away for now. Duro wasn't here and that wasn't going to change. But more Guides were out there, trapped in the Guild's training houses not knowing the breadth of what actually existed beyond those walls for them. Some knew only the very basics – that Sentinels were born with superior strength, speed, and power, coupled with extremely strong senses, so strong that they couldn’t handle living in the world. Sometimes the smallest things – a bird call, the weave of a scarf, the smell of beer – consumed all of their attention and their extremely sensitive senses to such a degree that it caused them to completely zone-out, leaving them practically comatose until a Guide helped them back to reality. Guides were valuable because they could soothe Sentinels and ease their way in a world where everything hurt. With a Guide at their side, a Sentinel could become sharper, stronger, even more impressive. So Guide training houses scooped up those that showed Guide aptitude and trained them for Sentinels willing to pay. To those people, Guides were a necessity but they could be bought. The Sentinels were what mattered, because they could serve in the military, or the police. They could keep the country strong and safe. True bonds – the idea that for every Sentinel there was a specific singular Guide – were ignored in favour of money and convenience.

 

Spartacus was getting to that point now in his speech.

 

“Sentinel and Guide partnerships should be equal. It is a bond, nothing less. The Sentinel is stronger and more physically powerful, yes, but it's the Sentinel that needs the Guide, not the other way around.”

 

Naevia stepped up and began talking. There was only so much Spartacus could say, since he was a Sentinel. He was one of the most powerful in the country and one of the most infamous thanks to his rebellion against the Guild. But he would always be viewed with suspicion or trained obedience by any newly-freed Guides. They needed to hear from Naevia.

 

Spartacus sat down beside Agron. He looked weary. “Over twenty Guides here were wrongly matched with Sentinels. They still bear the wounds.”

 

Agron nodded. That could have been his brother's fate. Thank the gods for Spartacus and his fucking wild ideas.

 

“Where to tomorrow?”

 

“We'll rest at Lucius’s and teach the Guides.”

 

And then onto the next training house. Agron turned to watch the group again. Naevia was asking who had felt the pull of their bonding and had been denied it due to their Sentinel's low station. Too many raised their hands. A bonded pair of staffers came forward to provide details. They had been the ones to contact Spartacus about the training house. Even from that distance, Agron could sense the strength of the bonding between them. They had obviously been together several years, able to anticipate the others' needs and, from what Agron had seen during the storming of the house, they were a formidable physical team when they needed to be too. He felt the yearning that always arose when he encountered a bonded pair.

 

For years, Duro's soothing presence had helped keep his senses in check. They knew they weren't meant to be bonded – family members never were – but it had worked for them as a stopgap, filling the empty space inside each of them as they waited in hope of meeting their true partners. Now that relief was lost to him, and Duro's death had left Agron so bloodily shredded inside, he doubted any Guide would be able to permanently soothe him.

 

At night, when he stared out into the darkness, he counted up the times that day his senses had spiked, how often he'd zoned out. Naevia and Mira did what they could for him, but he was too far gone now. Eventually, he would zone out permanently, dropping into a coma from which it would likely be impossible to return. Perhaps he'd find Duro there.

 

Until that happened, Agron would free as many Guides as possible. It would never be enough.

 

*

 

Shelter with Lucius lasted several days. The new Guides were not just taught that freedom was their right, as was an equal relationship with their Sentinel, but also self-defence and how to keep themselves undetected and how to forge papers. Agron had a bad couple of days. It took the combined Guide strength of Nemetes, Mira, and Naevia to pull him out of his zoning. It was getting worse.

 

Spartacus eyed him carefully. “There’s none in the group to suit you?”

 

Agron shook his head. He’d scented the new arrivals but none called to him even vaguely. Soon the placebos of Guides-not-his-own were going to stop working. Everybody knew it, and everybody also knew there wasn’t anything that could be done about it, short of finding Agron’s Guide.

 

It seemed that the Gods had a plan after all, because something happened several days later as the rebels were approaching a training house. It was one of the most elite in the area and so was well-secured. They were stealthily entering the grounds when Agron froze. A rich beguiling smell had reached him. It was like nothing he’d ever smelled before – like warm sun and cinnamon and sweat. It pulled at his whole being and filled him with urgency. He breathed in a deep lungful and found notes of fear buried deep under defiance and steel and rigid obedience. That, he recognised. It was a Guide. A Guide inside the building was calling to him? Why and how would......?

 

No fucking way.

 

“Agron?”

 

Spartacus approached him, concerned. Agron gestured for quiet and, in sheer disbelief, locked his senses onto the Guide. The heartbeat was calming and exciting at the same time, it soothed his ragged edges in a way that nobody had done before, yet it set off heat in him too. His spirit animal, a silver wolf, appeared beside him, eyes focused hard on the training house. Agron turned to find Naevia smiling at him, radiant and knowing.

 

“He’s found his Guide,” she called softly to Spartacus.

 

The Thracian looked at Agron questioningly and Agron could only nod – he’d never felt anything like it before, and from other Sentinels’ descriptions of the experience, he was definitely detecting his Guide. The thought alone made him pant. A Guide who would fit him perfectly, a Guide who would relieve the madness that consumed him all too often. The chances of finding his Guide had always been remote to the point that he'd stopped believing it would ever happen. But here the Guide was, at one of the training houses that Agron was going to liberate. The Gods showed fucking favour indeed.

 

“A blessing, brother.” Spartacus clasped his forearm, his congratulations genuine and heartfelt before his expression became serious and apologetic. “But you can’t stand at the front now.”

 

Everything in Agron screamed against the idea, at not being the first in, at not being the first to track down his Guide. But Spartacus was right - being closer to the Guide would make it very difficult for him to resist immediate bonding. And the Guide would likely not be in his right mind anyway; the cage bars of his training house ripped away and freedom suddenly thrust upon him for the first time since childhood. He might want to bond to Agron simply because a Sentinel dominating would be what he was familiar with, not because a lifelong bond was what he truly wanted. And Agron had always sworn, especially to Duro, that he would not be one of those fucks who took greedily and violently from their Guide, treating them like a vessel or like medicine and nothing more. Who knew what had been done to his Guide already? Agron would not add trauma to his partner. The very thought anguished him.

 

His Guide. The thought made his heart quicken. He sent a wild grin upwards.

 

_We fucking did it, brother._

 

The wolf howled.

 

*

 

Sentinels handling a training house’s security always fought hard. But Mira could shut down the electronic systems once she got to the computer hub and Spartacus’s men were a formidable pack even when faced with overwhelming adversaries. Agron snarled, felling two men with one sweep of his staff. Few houses could stand against the rebels.

 

Guides were being herded out of rooms and towards a large assembly hall. The defeated Sentinels were snatched away to be talked to later. The Guides were the focus. Agron took a deep breath. His Guide was here – he could sense him – and he was getting closer. Naevia pressed a grounding hand to his arm.

 

“You’ve got to stay back.”

 

Agron growled, the heat in him steadily spiking. Crixus and Donar immediately flanked him. The implication was clear; he wouldn’t be allowed close until he and the Guide had a chance to talk. Agron was glad of it, no matter how much it hurt to be separated from that amazing calling presence. Gods, was this how bonded pairs felt all the time? No wonder Crixus had gone mad when parted from Naevia, no wonder they were now always so close together.

 

Spartacus began his speech and was almost done when a straggling few Guides entered the hall. Electricity and heat immediately exploded inside Agron and a chant of _mine mine mine_ thundered through his head. One of the Guides was a small neat figure with a bare chest and loose trousers. Long hair fell down his back and over dark skin. He held himself with dignity and strength. His fiery gaze met Agron’s. Naevia gasped and surged forward.

 

“Nasir!”

 

They embraced emotionally, words exchanged quietly that Agron told himself not to listen to. He couldn’t take his eyes off the Guide though. His Guide. His heart ached with the urge to go forward, to claim and hold and protect. The Government claimed it was the right of every Sentinel to do exactly that and to do whatever the Sentinel liked to the Guide, as long as the Guide could function afterwards. The rebels under Spartacus insisted that it was the right of every Guide to refuse and to expect equality in bonding. Agron would not do otherwise now, no matter how hard his Sentinel nature demanded it.

 

Eventually Nasir and Naevia drew apart and moved further forward, staying still at a very safe distance. Agron bit back a growl. Not close enough.

 

Naevia’s words were a surprise. “Nasir saved my life. When I was forced to retrain here, he took care of me when he was told not to. He risked his life when he heard I’d been separated from my Sentinel. He made the madness go away.”

 

Crixus nodded. Clearly he’d heard the story before. “My thanks, Nasir.”

 

Nasir inclined his head. His gaze stayed pinned to Agron though and Agron revelled in that, greedily drinking him in. The Guide was a thing of beauty, likely prized and honed here in readiness for a rich Sentinel who would use him until a better fit was found. It was a fucking disgrace for Guides to be treated like clothing; tried on and then thrown away when something prettier turned up.

 

Agron didn’t deserve him either though. The things his hands had done….

 

_No one deserves you, you fuck_ Duro’s voice silently laughed. _It’s not about who you deserve, it’s about who’s right for you._

 

Naevia had an arm around Nasir, clearly bolstering him. Agron yearned to be the one to do that, it was his duty. He pushed those feelings back as hard as he could. He would not frighten his Guide. He would not ruin this. He would do this right, as he'd always promised Duro he would. It should always be the Guide's choice, not the Sentinel's biological pull, that decided.

 

He managed to swallow. His voice was still hoarse. “Nasir. I’m Agron.”

 

“Agron…..”

 

Nasir’s voice was softly accented and he sounded wondering, wistful, like Agron was a dream he’d never thought he’d ever actually get to see come true. Agron smiled helplessly, he knew that feeling well. He took a careful step forward, sensing Crixus and Donar ready to pull him back at any moment. He needed to do this first. He looked at Nasir, hoping that honesty was as clear in his own expression as desire was.

 

“I won’t hurt you and I won’t claim you unless you want me to.”

 

Nasir looked astounded. “But if we don’t bond, you’ll……”

 

“Please,” Agron quickly interrupted him. “Don’t do this because of obligation or training. Do it only if it’s what you want.”

 

His piece said, Agron turned with great difficulty and headed for the hall’s exit. He could feel Nasir’s gaze, heavy and hot, on his back. It took everything in him to not turn back and run and take. Once out in the corridor, Crixus’s hand grasped his shoulder.

 

“That was stupid and fucking brave,” the Gaul’s deep voice rumbled.

 

“You’d have done the same for Naevia.”

 

There was no more to be said after that.

 

*

 

Naevia pulled Nasir away from the hall for privacy, Mira seamlessly taking her place in giving the Guide speech. Naevia squeezed Nasir’s hand. He was still clearly in shock from Agron’s last words to him.

 

“He would really……?”

 

“Yes.”

 

Nasir shook his head. “What happened to him? There’s sharpness in him, pieces missing, he doesn’t make sense.”

 

Naevia smiled gently and reached out through her bond to Crixus for strength. “His brother, Duro, was killed when the rebellion started. Duro was a Guide.”

 

Nasir nodded slowly, frowning. “But they shared no bond.”

 

“No bond, but something close. They relied on each other to survive. Since Duro was torn away, Agron’s been lost to us many times. It’s getting worse.”

 

“So he wants to die, to be with his brother again.”

 

Naevia let silence fall between them, knowing Nasir would need it for where his thoughts had now inevitably headed. He had suffered a pain similar to Agron’s, it was something he’d revealed to her during the horrific time when they’d first gotten to know each other. His brother had been killed years ago, but it was a wound he still bore. He dreamed about that tragedy still.

 

“He wants to free Guides,” Naevia took up the story again. “So they can have what his brother didn’t.”

 

Nasir’s grip on her hand tightened. Naevia held his gaze.

 

“He won’t force you, Nasir, no matter what.”

 

Nasir nodded thoughtfully, obviously reaching and testing out what was already beginning to form between himself and Agron. Like Naevia, he trusted few people, and with good reason. But they trusted each other. He had to remember the times she’d talked to him about Crixus, about how rocky their relationship had begun, how both of them had worried about the other’s freedom of choice, about the wonder and fulfilment of a true bond. He knew that she hadn’t lied to him then and that she wouldn’t lie to him now. He also knew that, no matter her own opinion, she wouldn’t push him in either direction.

 

What she kept silent was the joy she'd felt at realising that Nasir was Agron's Guide and at how strong their connection had instantly been. Knowing them both, she was sure that they would be good for each other. She rejoiced for them and hoped hard. She didn't voice any of these thoughts, but cradled the warmth of them close.

 

So they sat there quietly, hand in hand, thoughts turning, until Saxa appeared in the doorway and Naevia rose to leave, throwing Nasir one last question. “Ask yourself this, if he succumbed, how would you feel?”

 

It was what she had once asked herself. She had never regretted her choice.

 

*

 

Agron paced. It had been two days since he’d last seen Nasir – giving the Guide time and space to begin to settle into freedom and the fact that he actually had a choice about which Sentinel claimed him. It felt like a whole lot longer. The heat was getting more intense, few more days and Agron would be under, boiling in his skin for not bonding with his Guide once they’d made contact. The fever would take him painfully. If that was Nasir’s choice, then Agron would honour it.

 

Spartacus had found him a bedroom, one that he’d been assured had never been used by Nasir. Agron and Nasir would have time and privacy, should they need it. Agron would have privacy no matter what Nasir chose. Of course he hoped and yearned for the first outcome. He hadn’t stopped thinking about Nasir since laying eyes on him. The younger man was beautiful and the pull Agron felt towards him was so immense that it left him gasping for breath. Agron could be bonded to him – he could be free of the constant fucking rawness caused by everybody else’s presence, be free of zone outs happening practically every day, he'd be able to actually touch somebody without the usual harsh painful feedback. His Guide, the missing piece that he never thought he’d ever get to meet.

 

There was a knock at the door and Nasir entered. He wore a shirt now, one that wrapped around and tied at his waist. He moved fluidly, gracefully. Agron’s blood burned as he watched. Everything about the smaller man enticed him.

 

_The Gods like you, brother. He’s just your type._

 

Agron gritted his teeth against answering. Nasir stayed a few paces away from him. The distance made Agron ache.

 

He pushed himself to speak. To end this. “You’ve made your decision?”

 

Nasir’s expression flickered. There was an encouraging heat in his eyes and a hitch to his breathing that made it very difficult for Agron to stay back.

 

“You are my choice.”

 

Agron’s own breathing stuttered. His heart felt as though it was beating double-time. Had Nasir really said….? “You’re sure?”

 

Nasir’s lips turned up a little. “I thought it was my choice, not yours to question?”

 

Agron dared to move closer, pulled far too strongly to resist now. He dared to slowly raise a hand, to hover uncertainly. “I’m…….”

 

_Damaged. Broken. Irreparable._

_You’re not fucking helping, brother._

 

Nasir moved suddenly closer, a fierceness and lust in his eyes that lit Agron on fire. It was a feeling that only increased when Nasir grasped his face firmly and pulled him down to eyelevel.

 

“You’re mine. My desire. My choice.”

 

They were both panting now – skin on skin contact inflaming them. Agron rested his forehead against Nasir's. He could smell Nasir's desire and lust and want, all for Agron. This couldn't be real. The Gods didn't ever work this much in his favour.

 

Nasir's hand caressed his face and neck. His tone was gentle but there was an echo of Guide voice in it, a tone not to be disobeyed.

 

“Sentinel……”

 

Fuck. That voice did incredible things to him. And in Nasir’s expression Agron could see the pain and need and want that Agron himself felt. It seemed that Nasir too had been sure that he’d never meet his true bond and he was bewildered and relieved that he now had. And for some reason he was really glad that it was Agron.

 

_If you refuse him, you’re a fucking idiot._

 

Agron lurched clumsily forward and fused their mouths together. Nasir responded immediately, tongue fighting as his hands explored Agron. It was as though they were trying to climb inside each other, mouths and limbs insistent. Agron could feel a steady thrum working its way through his body, paired with a giddy disbelief that he got to have this, that this beautiful man wanted him. It didn’t seem possible, but the happy lustful look on Nasir’s face said differently.

 

The Guide shoved Agron suddenly, putting the Sentinel off-balance and onto his back on the large freshly-made bed behind him. Moments later the Guide was crawling purposefully up his body. Oh Gods.

 

_Enjoy the ride, brother._

 

*

 

The world seemed to fade in and out. Waves of new and very welcome sensation flooded through Agron. It was fucking glorious. One thing stayed constant – Nasir's grip on him. His Guide refused to lose contact, tongue laving a path up then down his body, managing to be urgent as he thoroughly took his time. Agron groaned, only managing to get half-formed words past his lips. His mouth was frequently occupied anyway, tasting his Guide and committing the sensation to memory, doing the same with smell and touch and the rest of his senses.

 

His heart felt on fire. He wanted more, more of this Guide who simultaneously set his senses alight and soothed them completely. He could feel the bond starting to take shape, both of them opening up mentally to let the other in. It was like taking in air after being underwater for too long. Agron didn’t want it to stop. Not now, not ever.

 

Nasir nibbled at his collarbone, then his hand slid between Agron’s legs. Shortly afterwards Agron’s world exploded.

 

*

 

It was some hours later that Agron surfaced back into clear consciousness, registering Nasir’s lips on his neck, tenderly mouthing what felt like a very impressive bite mark. Nasir sported a matching mark on his own neck. They were both claimed.

 

Agron carded his hands through Nasir’s hair, basking in being able to do such a thing without pin-sharp pain or zoning-out. Nasir nuzzled against him. He seemed sated and extremely satisfied. Agron took in the air experimentally – he could smell exactly what they’d spent the past several hours doing, a fact that brought a sharp smile to his face. But there was no pain. He was fully ‘online’ as a Sentinel. His abilities would be strengthened now and much closer to stable, thanks to the influence of his Guide.

 

His Guide who was the cause of how very sore Agron currently felt. It was a state he hoped to be in for many more nights to come.

 

He gently squeezed Nasir’s arm and smiled at the content expression his Guide was wearing when he lifted his chin in greeting. He pressed his lips to Nasir’s, enjoying the sweet addictive taste. The need for his Guide had retreated from desperation and had settled instead into a hunger that would likely become ravenous once Nasir started moving against him again.

 

They'd only exchanged brief breathless words during the night. Now they had the chance to know each other better, to interweave their lives if they wanted to. Agron was sure of what he wanted, he wasn't fucking stupid. And from what he could feel and sense from Nasir, his Guide felt exactly the same way.

 

Agron cupped Nasir's jaw, his thumb smoothing across his Guide's lush mouth. Never before had he felt so peaceful, so at rest, so complete.

 

His Guide smiled and pushed up to begin kissing the curve of Agron's neck. The bond hummed, pleased and strong, between them. The rawness and aches had disappeared completely. Agron closed his eyes, revelling in the sensations that surrounded him, the smell of his Guide, the sound of Duro's laughter.

 

Close by, the wolf curled up closely to a striped wildcat. They watched contentedly over their charges, equally glad that at last, they were home.

 

_-the end_


End file.
